


Don't Freak Out

by HollyMartins



Series: Mickey and Ian's Domestic Adventures [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Beware of an Ian and Mickey argument, But I just wanted them to be together in the future with kids, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Strong Language, Tell me if they sound too OOC, The end of season 5 didn't happen, This is my first time writing in this fandom and I'm nervous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 14:57:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3696596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyMartins/pseuds/HollyMartins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey is at work when he gets a vaguely troubling text message from Ian. He should be used to it after all these years but now with kids in the picture, it's somehow more nerve-wracking.</p><p>--- </p><p>Mickey and Ian discover the reason for Yev's discontent. They're not expecting it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I only just discovered the Gallavich ship relatively recently and fell hard down that rabbit hole. And I desperately want Mickey to have a stable home life and family so in an effort to pretend all that turns out alright for him, I went on Omegle and roleplayed and was inspired to write this. This is based off of a roleplay but the other user disconnected before we could finish it so I decided to turn it into a fic. 
> 
> Mostly, I just want Mickey and Ian in a normal, loving, stressful marriage with kids. Please let me know what you think and it they sound to OOC! Please leave comments below to help me decide whether or not I should continue this.

_Don’t freak out._

Mickey stared at the text before frowning. Years with Ian had gotten him used to vague and slightly troubling text messages but they were older now and had kids. The ambiguous texts game was nerve-wracking.

 

Mickey ran his fingers over the screen.

 

 _Alright_.

 

_I had to take the kids to the ER._

Mickey’s stomach dropped and a blaze of anger rose over his face.

 

_What the fuck did you do?_

 

Not his most understanding of responses but come on. Kids plus ER equaled overprotective Mickey.

 

_What? Nothing, asshole!_

_You obviously did something. Did you crash the car or some shit?_

 

_Mickey, we have children. Children get hurt sometimes. It has to be my fault?!_

Mickey growled and glanced up at his co-worker taping idly at the computer.

 

“Gotta take this call, Jake. I’ll be right back.”

 

“Sure,” Jake replied not bothering to look up.

 

Mickey went through the back door and into the alley, taking a deep breath before dialing Ian’s number. It rang once before he heard Ian say, “Mick.”

 

“Who’s hurt and how fucking bad?” Mickey spat.

 

“Oh my God, like nothing has ever happened under your watch,” Ian sighed. “Yev was skateboarding with the neighborhood kids and fell. Fucked up his arm. And I couldn’t very well leave the girls home alone, could I? So they came with us.”

 

Mickey exhaled and leaned against the brick wall, his hand going to his face in relief.

 

“Alright, so you say you had to take Yev to the ER, not all three of them. You made it sound like a massacre.”

 

“Oh for God’s sakes, this is why I told you not to freak out,” Ian said.

 

“Are the girls okay?” Mickey said quickly before Ian even finished his sentence. “As long as the girls are okay.”

 

“They’re fine,” Ian replied gently. “April is running around asking the nurses all sorts of questions about their equipment and Lydia just keeps patting Yev’s head, trying to comfort him.”

 

Mickey allowed himself a quirk of a smile before continuing. “Jesus, she’s only three and she already has your heart,” he said softly.

 

“She’s always been sensitive. Nothing to do with me,” Ian said. “And are you not worried about your son?”

 

“He’s always fucking himself up.”

 

“Well, this time he broke something.”

 

“Shit,” Mickey said, “that’s gonna cost.”

 

“Yeah, I know. He’s gotta keep the cast on for six weeks. Luckily it’s not the arm he writes with.” Ian sighed and Mickey could tell that he was already exhausted. “Guess we gotta dip into the money we set aside for re-doing the bathroom. “

 

“I’ll pick up an extra shift tonight,” Mickey replied, standing up straight. “I can get some more hours this weekend.”

 

“Mickey, no. We don’t need that yet.”

 

“It’s fine. Just for tonight at least.”

 

“I know the kids are gonna want you home tonight. Yev is acting tough but I can tell he’s shaken up.”

 

“Jesus, it’s just one night,” Mickey said, frowning at the dank ally. “Suck it up and I’ll bring in the extra cash.”

 

There was a troubling pause on the other end. Mickey waited, his gut twisting.

 

“You want me to tell our son to suck it up?” Ian asked, his voice hard. “Be a man?”

 

“He’s old enough. It’s just a broken arm.”

 

“Are you serious right now?”

 

Mickey rolled his eyes. “By the time I was thirteen, I had broken a ton of shit. Nobody was there to walk me through it.”

 

“And our children are NOT being raised the way we were.”

 

“One extra fucking shift!” Mickey insisted, the blaze of anger returning. “I’ll talk to him in the morning.”

 

Ian’s breathing was fast and short. Then suddenly, he spat, “Fine.”

 

“You and Lydia can share the bed tonight. She always gets nightmares anyway,” Mickey said, a small side of him feeling guilty over using their youngest child as a distraction.

 

There was no response, just the muffled sound of Ian’s voice speaking lowly to someone else over the beeps and pages of the hospital. Then another voice, softer and higher, responding quickly. Mickey heard Ian return the phone to his ear and close a door behind him.

 

“Just told him. He said, ‘whatever dad wants.’”

 

“Exactly! See?” Mickey said, glancing at his watch, annoyed that this conversation had already taken this long.

 

“He’s not happy about it.”

 

“You treat him like a little kid. He’s got this.”

 

The door opened and Mickey glanced up to see his co-worker looking at his questioningly. He waved his hand away and Jake shrugged, closing the door behind him. He really didn’t have time for this.

 

“He’s only 13! He is still a kid!” Ian exclaimed.

 

“Oh my fuck, what do you want from me!” Mickey pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to steady his voice.

 

“I want you to come home and be a father to your kids!”

 

“Fuck you. Whatever.”

 

“Mickey, come on.”

 

“I mean, God forbid I put my job to good fucking use so we don’t have to dip into our savings. God fucking forbid.” Fuck, he really wanted a cigarette right now.

 

“The bathroom can have shitty tiling and an old toilet for a bit longer!” A sudden sound of squealing laughter burst out. “April! No, don’t touch that! Leave her alone, she’s working.”

 

Mickey groaned and looked up at the sky from between the shitty buildings.

 

“Fine, I’ll come home.”

 

“No, forget it. Do whatever you want,” Ian said breathlessly, the sound of April chattering in the background.

 

“It’s too fucking late!” Mickey burst through the back door and grabbed his jacket from behind the counter, the look on his face making Jake avert his gaze. “I gonna take half a day,” he said gruffly. “Kid in the hospital.”

 

Jake nodded. “See ya tomorrow.”

 

Mickey put the phone back to his ear after shrugging into his jacket and went into the parking lot.

 

“I’m on my way,” he said coldly.

 

“God, you’re pissed because your kids want you home? After they’ve spent the whole afternoon in the hospital.”

 

“Don’t make it sound so fucking bad,” Mickey said, unlocking the car and slipping in, slamming the door behind him a bit too roughly. “I’m not going to say anything useful to Yev anyway. You’ll probably just end up yelling at me about that, too.”

 

Ian sighed. “How hard can it be to be sensitive to your kids?”

 

“Stop acting like I’m a terrible dad!” Mickey swore under his breath as he fumbled with the keys in the ignition.

 

“You’re not a terrible dad,” Ian sighed. “I just wish you could… you could drop that South-Side-we-don’t-talk-about-our-feelings shit with our kids. I mean, we moved away for a reason.”

 

Mickey froze, the key halfway into the ignition.

 

“Seriously?” he whispered.

 

“Seriously.”

 

He sat back against the seat. “You think I’m not talking about my feelings?”

 

Ian hesitated and Mickey had to blink to keep his vision from going red.

 

“Sometimes with the kids you can be… standoffish or dismissive,” Ian said quietly.

 

“You think I don’t drop the fucking South Side with our kids?” Mickey knew his voice was full of venom and he hated it but it was too fucking late.

 

“Mickey, stop, you’re taking this too far.”

 

“Because I, Mickey Milkovich,” he began, talking over his husband again, “am acting totally standoffish and dismissive when I let a three-year-old fucking spoon me every night because she keeps having bad dreams! And apparently, I don’t look under their beds every night because they’re afraid or vacuum the monsters out of their closets!”

 

“No, you’re great that way!” Ian said quickly, his voice sounding more and more desperate. “You’re just a bit harder on Yev than the girls.”

 

“That’s because I’m not raising him to be some pussy!” And the horror at what he just said washed away the red in his vision.

 

Ian was silent for a long time until suddenly, he whispered, “Wow. That is the most misogynistic… do you even hear yourself right now?”

 

It was too late to back down. Too late to apologize.

 

“He doesn’t need ice cream and to be coddled because he broke his arm, Ian.”

 

“He fell and got scared! He’s allowed to want his dad and to be comforted.”

 

Mickey pinched the bridge of his noise again and took a deep breath. Maybe it was time to use some of those tactics Ian did when they were arguing

 

“And I respect your point of view,” he said, a false calm in his voice.

 

“But you don’t want our son to be a pussy,” Ian said quickly.

 

“Maybe I’m just trying to get one of our kids to be like me!” he exclaimed. “They’re all like you, I’ve got no one to share traits with or fucking bond with.”

 

Somehow, this silence over the phone was the worst one. Suddenly he could hear Lydia on the other end. “Papa, who are you talking to?”

 

“Daddy,” Ian said softly. “Go check on Yev.” A few more moments of silence before Ian whispered, “What the fuck are you talking about? They’re not all like me, thank God. They fucking idolize you and you… you think you haven’t bonded with them?”

 

“They’re all like you!” Mickey said. “I mean, when I was April’s age, I was learning how to kill people.”

 

“Because of your shitty upbringing!” Ian answered, sounding rather heartbroken. “And when we got our kids, you swore they would never, ever live like we did.”

 

Mickey stared at the wheel, his heart beating wildly.

 

“Fine, I’ll come home and hug him and take him for ice cream and read him a fucking bedtime story. Would that make you happy? Is that what you want from me?”

 

“What is wrong with you?” Ian whispered. “Our son wants to see his dad and have him tell him he’s okay. That’s all.”

 

“And I was gonna do that tomorrow after I took on another shift and did something useful for this family.”

 

“Is that what this is all about?” Ian asked. “You don’t feel useful?”

 

Mickey clenched his eyes shut and exhaled through his nose before dropping his head in his hand.

 

“I don’t know,” he said.

 

“Mickey,” Ian said gently, “you do so much for this family.”

 

“I just don’t like you always talking about how I’m still acting like I’m from the South Side because I’m trying, Ian. You grew up in the same place but your life wasn’t nearly as shitty as mine. It’s fucking hard pretending to be something I’m not.”

 

“Who are you pretending to be?” Ian asked.

 

“Some sophisticated dad who has all his shit together.”

 

“Babe, no one thinks that about you,” Ian said lightly. “A joke, by the way. And I’m sorry. I guess I just get scared sometimes that we’re gonna fuck up our kids the way we were fucked up.”

 

“Whatever,” Mickey sighed, suddenly exhausted. “Are you heading home?”

 

“In a bit, the doctor has to prescribe some pain meds for Yev and then we’ll head home.” They were both silent for a few moments, listening to the other breathe. “Mickey, you’re just Dad to our kids and they adore you. And all Yev wants is to make you proud.”

 

Mickey bit his lip, his free hand gripping the wheel tightly.

 

“Fine, alright, I’ll go home now, take a shower, jack off, and then I’ll talk to him.”

 

“You really need to jack off, dude?” Ian asked, amusement in his voice.

 

“Like I said, a three-year-old has been spooning me every night for the last week so yeah, I kinda do.”

 

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Ian chuckled. “But you love it when Lydia holds you at night, don’t deny it.”

 

“Yeah, well, I’d rather it be you,” he said, turning the key.

 

“I know but it’s still sweet. And you definitely cried the first time she did it.”

 

“Shut up, I did not.”

 

“Did so.”

 

“Whatever. I’m leaving work now, okay?”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Ian sighed. “Hey, Mick?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I love you.”

 

“Don’t get all sappy on me.”

 

“I love you.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, you too. See ya at home.”

 

Mickey hung up and put the car into drive, anxious to see his family again.


	2. Chapter 2

Mickey just managed to slip a fresh shirt on when he heard the car pull into the driveway. He carelessly threw his towel into the tub and walked out of the bathroom and through the hall, just in time to see the front door burst open and April rush in, brandishing a latex glove blown up into a balloon.

 

“Daddy!” she sang. “Lookit what I got!” 

 

“No fair, mine popped,” Lydia pouted, toddling after her older sister.

 

 

Mickey huffed a breath as his eldest daughter through her arms around his waist, the balloon hitting him in the face.

 

“What’s it supposed to be?” he asked. “A cow udder?”

 

April released her father and shrugged. 

 

“I dunno but the Yev’s nurse gave it to me.”

 

“I had one, too,” Lydia said sadly.

 

Mickey leaned down and picked her up, kissing her gently.

 

“Pop said you were a big help with Yev today.” She nodded proudly. “Where is he?”

 

She pointed behind her just in time for Ian to hold the door open for Yev, eyes glued to the floor and his messy hair (that desperately needed a cut, according to Mickey) barely hiding the forlorn expression on his face.

 

“Hey, champ,” Mickey said, gently placing Lydia back on her feet and approaching his son. “How’s that arm doing?”

 

“Fine,” Yev said, his free hand scratching at the green cast self-consciously. 

 

“Doesn’t hurt?”

 

“No."

 

Mickey sighed and glanced at Ian over Yev’s shoulder. He shrugged and ruffled Yev’s messy hair.

 

“You hungry, kiddo?” Ian asked.

 

“I am!” April shouted from the living room.

 

“No,” Yev said, barely looking up.

 

“Hey, check it out,” Mickey said suddenly, “lookit what I picked up on my way home from work.”

 

Yev glanced up curiously as Mickey reached into a plastic bag on the counter and pulled out a small pile of new comic books. 

 

“Got the titles you like, I think,” he said, handing them to his son.

 

“Thanks,” Yev mumbled, taking them with his free hand. “I guess I’ll go lay down and read them.”

 

Mickey stared at his son confused as Ian patted him gently on his shoulder. 

 

“Go rest, I’ll bring you in something to eat in a bit, okay?” he said.

 

Yev nodded and trudged to his bedroom, the door closing behind him. Mickey turned to Ian as he walked into the kitchen.

 

“What the hell is his problem?” he asked. “Why’s he acting like someone died?”

 

Ian shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “He’s been down ever since we got to the hospital. It is the first time he’s broke anything or had to go to the emergency room. Maybe that’s it?”

 

“Yeah but kids get casts all the time,” Mickey said. “It’s not like he broke the arm he jerks off with or something.”

 

Ian threw a crumpled napkin at Mickey.

 

“I don’t know but he’s been upset since it happened. Which is why I wanted you home.”

 

“Yeah but I’m shit at comforting the kids. Except when it comes to beating up monsters or whatever. I can’t deal teenage angst bullshit.”

 

“Oh, I know,” Ian replied, opening the fridge and pulling out a leftover pizza to warm up. “But I still think you should try talking to him.”

 

Mickey rolled his eyes.

 

“Is there something bigger going on here that I don’t know about? Because all that happened is Yev broke his arm and it got fixed. The end. For Christ’s sakes, he didn’t get shot.”

 

“Who got shot, Daddy?” April asked as she walked into the kitchen and immediately reached for a cold slice of pizza. Ian glared at him before taking her hand out of the pizza box.

 

“I’m heating this up,” he said to her.

 

“But I’m hungry now!"

 

“April, for Christ’s sakes, go play with your sister,” Mickey sighed.

 

“But-"

 

“NOW.”

 

April sighed dramatically and stomped off to the living room. Ian raised his eyebrows at Mickey before putting the pizza in the oven.

 

“What? So that was wrong, too?” Mickey asked, irritation creeping into his voice again.

 

Ian grabbed one of those vitamin-infused waters that Mickey always thought tasted like shit and handed it to him.

 

“Go give this to Yev and see if he’s okay.”

 

“He’s not dying, you know.”

 

“Just go.”

 

Mickey, feeling distinctly like he was being punished, sighed nearly as dramatically as his daughter had and walked down the hall to his son’s bedroom. He knocked on the closed door and opened it without waiting for a reply. He frowned at the sight of Yev curled up on the bed, his broken arm resting on a pillow and the new comic books discarded on the floor.

 

“You okay, kid?” 

 

Yev nodded without turning around.

 

“You want something to drink? I got,” he glanced at the bottle in his hand, “some blue raspberry shit.”

 

“You didn’t have to come home from work,” Yev said suddenly, his back still turned.

 

“Your Pop wanted me to. Said it would make you feel better.”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“Well, you sure as shit don’t look it,” Mickey said, placing the bottle on his nightstand and sitting on the bed beside his son. He placed a gentle hand on his head, his fingers carding through his long hair. “What’s the matter? The arm hurting you that bad?”

 

“My arm doesn’t hurt,” Yev snapped. He sighed. “I’m fine.”

 

“Then why are you acting like somebody died?”

 

Yev sighed and rolled over. 

 

“It’s nothing. I’ll get over it.”

 

“Get over what?”

 

Yev hesitated and bit his lip in a manner eerily similar to his father when suddenly the doorbell rang. They heard both girls shout, “I got it!” and stampede to the door as an indistinct voice spoke gently.

  
“Yev, it’s for you!” Lydia called.

 

Yev frowned and sat up cautiously.

 

Mickey followed him out the room and down the hallway to the front door where Ian was chatting to a young girl, about Yev’s age but taller and with dark, tightly curly hair.

 

“Hi, Yev!” she said brightly.

 

Yev stopped short in the hall and stared dumbly at the girl. Mickey raised an eyebrow as he watched the color drain out of his son’s face and his eyes widen. He nudged him as a few moments of awkward silence passed without Yev responding.

 

“Uh, hi,” he mumbled.

 

“I just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing,” she said, taking a tentative step closer and glancing at his cast. “So you did break your arm?”

 

Yev  flushed brightly and nodded once.

 

“Ugh, that sucks.” The girl suddenly glanced at his parents and ducked her head. “Sorry.”

 

“We say so much worse in this house,” Ian said, smiling.

 

The girl smiled and looked back at Yev.

 

“So no more skateboarding for a while, huh?” she asked.

 

“No more skateboarding ever,” Mickey said gruffly. “That thing’s a deathtrap. I always hated it.”

 

Ian rolled his eyes.

 

“Not at least for six weeks,” he answered for Yev who was still bright red and silent. “I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

 

“Elena,” she answered, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “I live a couple streets over.”

 

“Do you wanna have some lunch with us? We’ve got pizza.”

 

Yev widened his eyes pleadingly at Ian who merely smiled at Elena, pointedly ignoring the look of absolute fear on his son's face. Mickey raised an eyebrow as he glanced between his son and the girl.

 

“No, thank you, I gotta get back, I have chores to do,” she said. “I just wanted to see how you are, Yev. That was a nasty spill.”

 

Mickey nudged him again, causing Yev to clear his throat and nod. “Yeah, yeah, it was.”

 

She smiled and looked at Yev expectantly. When it became obvious that he wasn’t going to say anything more, she nodded once and waved.

 

“Well, I better get going,” she said, backing towards the door. “I’ll still see you around, though, right?”

 

“Yeah.”

She smiled and waved to the rest of the family before leaving. Ian closed the door behind her and smirked at Yev, who had suddenly developed an intense interest in the floor.

 

“Is that what this is all about?” Mickey asked, his arms crossed in front of him. “You took a fall in front of some girl and your balls shriveled up?”

 

Yev groaned and ran a hand through his hair.

 

“She’s cute, Yev,” Ian said, grinning widely, “who is she?”

 

“Just some girl.”

 

“I don’t think she’s just some girl.”

 

“Nah way, man, it looked like you got it bad,” Mickey observed.

 

Yev sighed and collapsed dramatically on the couch, wincing as his arm hit the cushion. 

 

“Her name’s Elena Morales,” he recited, his free hand draped over his eyes, “she just moved here with her family a month ago and she’s the best skateboarder I’ve ever seen and super smart and awesome.”

 

“And you’ve got a crush on her,” Ian observed.

 

Yev groaned again. 

 

“I was trying to do some stupid move I saw online and I wiped out instead, right in front of her,” he sighed. “So please just kill me now.”

 

Mickey laughed and picked up Yev’s arm from his face.

 

“Trust me when I say, it’s only gonna worse,” he said, grinning. Yev rolled his eyes and sighed as Ian playfully punched Mickey in the shoulder.

 

“Well, I think she’s sweet,” Ian said.

 

“She must think I’m a total idiot.”

 

“If she thought that, she wouldn’t have come by,” Mickey observed.

 

“You think so?” Yev asked, hope creeping into his voice.

 

“I know so,” Mickey said, glancing at his husband. “But for the record, the rest of us do think you’re an idiot.”

 

“Shut up, Dad,” Yev said, smiling softly.

 

“Pop! Something’s burning!” April called.

 

“Shit, the pizza!” Ian rushed out of the room.

 

Mickey rolled his eyes and then leaned down to kiss his son of the top of his head. Yev looked up at him curiously.

 

“Don’t worry, buddy,” he said, “I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

 

“Pop says you’re shit at romance.”

 

“Got Pop, didn’t I?”

 

Yev smirked. “You guys are gross.”

 

“Soon we’ll be saying that about you and what’s her name.”

 

“Elena!”

 

“Right, right,” Mickey said, standing up straight. “Gotta get my future daughter-in-law’s name right.”

 

He barely missed the pillow thrown at his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments!
> 
> I want to continue exploring the world of Gallavich (and their happy future which I need to happen for them) but I want to make sure I've got their personalities right. Thank you for reading, my dears!


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